


the wildest of the wild, the wolf leading wolves

by ModernArt2012



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, F/M, Gen, Modern Royalty, Princess and knight, Zelda is having a far worse time than me (freeform), chill twunk mild himbo enrages scholarly princess, more at 2 (freeform)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28620405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModernArt2012/pseuds/ModernArt2012
Summary: Zelda cannot believe this. This. This. She huffs like an angry lynel, about to charge, the edges of her slate digging into the tender skin of her hands. She wanted a picture of the exam results - to show her father that attending university wasn’t a mistake, that she could rise to the top and shine in all subjects instead of doing as her predecessors had done and going to study with the Sheikah for a few years before taking a more active role in the monarchy and ruling Hyrule.Half a point. Half a Goddess damned percentage point. In physics  of all things. He’d scored better than her in a hard science, something she’d dedicated her every free moment to up until this point - so she could double major in political sciences and engineering, by her agreement with her father.Or: Zelda, Princess Royal of Hyrule, of a scholarly bent, gets beaten in exams and gains an enemy. Rival. Knight. Friend?  Something? Approximately in that order.
Relationships: King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule & Zelda, Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Urbosa & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Zelda & Mipha (Legend of Zelda), Zelda & Revali (Legend of Zeda)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	the wildest of the wild, the wolf leading wolves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MajesticAnna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajesticAnna/gifts).



> Title from: [ **_For The Red Riding Hood Who Was The Wolf_ **](https://meanwhilepoetry.tumblr.com/post/167276390293/her-mother-told-her-she-could-grow-up-to-be) by Nikita Gill
> 
> For MajesticAnna, who, given my track record, probably suspected I was her santa but is/has been a good sport about it. 
> 
> A major thank you to the ever unparalleled [, the illustrious MegaSheep ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegaSheep) This would never have been born without you, ily <3 (also if you're into the bnha and like some fired chicken, check out their fic "Someone Else's Song." All of MegaSheep's stuff is A+++++, but SES is so good.)

Zelda cannot believe this. This. _This_. She huffs like an angry lynel, about to charge, the edges of her slate digging into the tender skin of her hands. She wanted a picture of the exam results - to show her father that attending university wasn’t a mistake, that she could rise to the top and shine in all subjects instead of doing as her predecessors had done and going to study with the Sheikah for a few years before taking a more active role in the monarchy and ruling Hyrule. 

Half a point. Half a Goddess damned percentage point. In _physics_ of all things. He’d scored better than her in a hard science, something she’d dedicated her every free moment to up until this point - so she could double major in political sciences and engineering, by her agreement with her father. She could already hear what King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule (the second) would have to say about that. “ _A knight in training beat you in your pet subject,”_ he would scoff, “ _so then what is the point of sending you to university? You have not dedicated yourself to your duties as you are supposed to, cannot manifest the powers of the Goddess Hylia as is your birthright, and now you are bringing shame to the Hyrule lineage by being beat by an untested knight in training. This is not the will of the Goddess!”_

Her fingers are dialing the number she’s had memorized for nearly her entire life before she could think twice. A warm, comforting voice answers, “Little bird?” 

“He beat me, Auntie. He beat me by half a percentage point in physics.” She tries to suppress the sob barely held back in her throat as she curls tightly into a ball under the shade of her tree - well not really hers, but _hers_ , the same way this out of the way hidden garden was, somewhere only she knew and could hide - and held the slate closer to her ear, as if that would bring her godmother closer. Allow her to hide away in the protection of her godmother’s arms. 

Urbosa’s voice sounded vaguely amused, yet musically accented in the way typical of Gerudo, “And?”

“And what?”

“You wouldn’t be this upset if it was just one subject. So what else?”

Zelda sighs, “And we tied in Botany, Biology, Chemistry, and Ancient Sheikah. He can’t even talk, Auntie! How’s he even taking that course when half the grade is on pronunciation?”

Her godmother’s voice crackled with laughter like the lightning she commanded, “You know there is a sign language version of Ancient Sheikah - “

Zelda curls up tighter against the base of her tree, because she does know, “ - because the Hero of Legend tended to be mute. I know.”

“- And all royal knights in training must be proficient in the major languages of Hyrule, no exceptions.” Urbosa’s tone turns lightly admonishing, the same tone she used when Zelda was a child, with Riju now. It was the custom of the Gerudo to not scold children when gentle correction and reasoning would do, and Zelda felt the flush of shame in her chest deepen, darken - to be treated like a child when she was an adult! “But you know, Little Bird, there’s nothing wrong with a little healthy competition. Haven’t you told me that you wanted to find someone who could intellectually match you?”

“Auntie, I was 7 when I said that!” The sound of shattering ceramics breaks the still air of the garden, and Zelda is instantly on alert. “I have to go, may the Seven Heroines of Naboris guide your path.” 

“And may the blessings of the Goddess Hylia be with you.” Zelda clicks her slate off, and silently creeps towards the courtyard attached to her garden. All the summers studying with Purah and Impa had paid off - she could move stealthily even in the crunchy leaf litter underfoot, and slowly peer through the arcade that surrounded the courtyard in the direction the sound had come from. 

All the training in the world can’t stop her words from bursting out, “YOU!” The figure standing in the courtyard looks up, confusion on his features. 

The blonde startles and whirls around from the scene of the crime, points to himself in the universal gesture of “Who? Me?” The effect is slightly tarnished by the branch in his other hand.

“Yes, you! Do you even know what you just broke?”

“A pot...?” The sign comes slowly, like a person drawing out a word, trying to understand.

It’s very tragic that Zelda knows the Hylian sign for pot, specifically clay ones created for storage and not the metal ones for cooking or the glass ones for magic items and potions. Really, who allowed the Hero of Legend to be a pot breaking gremlin to necessitate different signs for “pot”? 

“Yes a pot, but a _decorative_ pot. You know - one not meant to be destroyed.” Because Hateno had an annual pot breaking festival dedicated to the Hero, and an entire economy dedicated to pot production, and making the distinction is very important.

The blonde blithely replies, “But what if there was something inside?”

Zelda stares in pure astonishment, “What would be inside a decorative pot in a garden?”

He shrugs, dislodging the branch from where it’d been tucked under his arm, “Rupees? Arrows? A piece of power?”

She swears there’s a twitch developing in her eye, “Why would there be money in a pot. In a university. Garden. That’s open. To the public.”

Another shrug, “Because it’s the will of the Goddess?”

Zelda knows better, but the reference to the gods-damned Goddess touches something sore and weeping inside, spreads inarticulate rage soaring through her, “You - you - _graceless_ _twink!”_

The tableau freezes. It’s not her finest moment, and Zelda mentally notes to _not_ put this in her daily diary entry. The previous royals of the Hyrule lineage probably edited their diaries, right? The historians already had a field day with her, a bit of public image salvage wouldn’t ruin her (any more). 

The blonde immediately negates, “I’m not a twink, I’m a twunk,” forced to fingerspell the words. He strikes a muscle pose like he’s at the knights training gym and flexing in the mirrors, as if Zelda is supposed to admire his physique. 

Zelda, having spectated the annual Goron Blood Brothers Manliness Competitions, and the ensuant buff bodies on display since she was a teen, is not impressed. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but even a Gerudo child is more “buff” than you are. And less prone to breaking private property, which is a crime.”

“Unless you’re the Hero of Time - “ Her words don’t seem to have had an effect at disturbing him, but he’d always been a little hard to read; she hadn’t thought she could get any more enraged, but now she’s seeing red.

“- Who has not appeared in the nearly 10,000 years after the Calamity was defeated, and is not expected to appear.” Zelda levels her most imperious glare. “Furthermore, while I know you’re the son of a minor noble from Hateno, a knight in training’s stipend is generous - if you’re having trouble doing basic budgeting and must scrounge for rupees, then I must assume your Physics grade is the result of cheating.”

The only change in his composure was the wind ruffling his hair, making his damned wolf tail sway. Zelda wants to knock him unconscious with her single edition copy of Lady Purah’s _Theory of Everything_ and hide his body in one of the—frankly, too many—decorative pots in the courtyard. It would serve him right. How dare he? “ _How dare you_! Loitering around here as if you’re not up to something nefarious and criminal, and having the audacity to pretend you did well in courses because of your own work! I can’t stand people like you, who put their desires first without regard for others!” She nearly shrieks her frustrations to the sky, but it wouldn’t be princess-like and if someone heard she’d be in for much much worse than she already was.

Link flinches, as if she’s struck a nerve, blink and you miss it style. 

She can hear the gentle guidance of her dear friend Princess Mipha in her ear, telling her to walk away - it’s good advice, advice she should take before she kicks this upstart in the Family Triforce and causes a scandal. She still can’t resist a parting shot, “One day, Link, I will figure out what you’re up to and expose you for the fraud you are!” 

Then she (gracefully! A princess moves with grace, even when discomposed and ready to MMA fight a Hinox), stalks away, head held high. If there’s the sound of a “tee hee!” on the wind, she pays it no mind.

* * *

It would perhaps be too generous to say things go precisely downhill from there. It’s more of a vague ramble in a southerly direction that Zelda could have predicted from 100 years in the past while blindfolded. 

First came the newspaper reports - exam results were public, afterall, and it only took one photo on Slatr to start the whispers turning from how brave Zelda was to break with royal tradition and study at a public university, to the state of the monarchy and its education when a knight in training tied and even beat the Princess Royal. Zelda did hate the social media platform, allowing every which unsubstantiated report an audience. The anti-royalists were using it as justification of their abolitionist stance- why should the royal family be supported with tax money when they weren’t that special in the first place? The Citadel was abuzz with it’s own takes - so far, according to Crazy Traysi’s notorious gossip column in the paper, Zelda was locked in a tense love affair with Link and King Rhoam wouldn’t approve until Link proved himself. Zelda always knew she hated Crazy Traysi.

Zelda quickly thereafter received an ad hoc call from her father - precisely three days before their scheduled weekly check in, but not an in person visit that would get the gossip mill running. King Rhoam was always very careful not to let the public know of their discussions and the topics therein - and slate calls were cheaper and safer than travel for royals, as well as much more secure from eavesdropping. Better for a gossip to have half a story than a whole one. Though, given that conversations with her father were less conversations and more one-sided narrations of her faults and failings listed at breath and volume, it wouldn’t be too hard for a listener to grasp the whole call without much effort. 

But her father couldn’t leave well enough alone and stick to the script, though. After the expected castigation and detailed recitation of her numerous failures, King Rhoam declared, “There’s no getting around it, we’ll have to make him your knight! _”_

What. “What?!” Zelda is sure the birds in Hebra heard her shriek. “Father, please!”

“Now Zelda -”

“You can’t be serious! I don’t need a knight - _”_

“Zelda!” Her father’s voice bursts through, sharp and harsh even with the slight tinny quality slate calls had. “It is already well beyond the time you should have been appointed a knight, and it is the only thing that will quiet these rumors. You know that.” 

The worst part is that he’s right - Zelda really should have been appointed a knight at seventeen, someone who would swear unflattering loyalty to her and stand by her side as her equal. But she’s had a reputation as a bookworm - a ‘proper bluestocking’, as the gossips more politely put it - and a penchant for staying far far away from Hyrule Castle and in harsh terrain with the other native peoples of Hyrule, making the list of people who wanted to be associated with her very short. Framing this as a test to find out if Link was suitable to be her equal, stand at her side, it was the only logical move - better she just accept it quietly, even if she has to hold back tears. “Yes Father.”

“Good. Expect the official announcement by the weekend.” And then he hangs up, leaving her in the cold and dark sitting room of her apartments at the Citadel.

* * *

Unfortunately for Zelda, the royal grapevine works much faster than any bureaucracy ever could. By the next morning, she’s been invited to the very serene and very aquatic apartments of her dear fellow Princess Royal, Priestess of Lord Jabu-Jabu, the Star Sapphire of the Zora, Divine Grace of Ruto, the Sage Princess Mipha (second of her name) for tea. Because Mipha is too pure and good for this world - a being of pure effortless grace and percipience and self possession and beloved - and everything Zelda has always wanted to be and never been able to achieve. If they hadn’t both been fostered with Auntie Urbosa in the name of tradition and training, Zelda suspects she’d have hated Mipha for everything Mipha is. But dehydration induced mania and heat stroke tended to bond people, and now Zelda is very very much stuck with a literal angel for a best friend.

An angel who serenely asks with _dimples_ , “Zelda, are you quite sure that you’re okay with this? Choosing a Royal Knight is a major decision - “

Only long familiarity allows Zelda to unleash her tongue - a bit. “How would you know? Zora royals don’t tend to have knights.”

Mipha merely laughs, and it’s a delicate thing full of ringing bells and heavenly choirs and maybe even the light of the three Goddesses? The exact opposite of Zelda’s, yet again, one more way she falls short of the standard of “Princess”. “Ah, but I do have a Royal Knight. He’s very cute.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Sidon.”

“Sidon?” Who is so small and adorable and still hasn’t learned how to swim up a waterfall, much less swing a weapon. Zelda blinks , processing. The skepticism must be writ large across her face; Mipha’s ringing laugh echoes through the vaulted grotto like wind chimes.

“I am my father’s heir first, even though I myself as a Zora Princess am expected to learn weaponcraft and the art of war. So Sidon, as the next heir, is to protect and aid me to the best of his ability - he carries his duties out with great aplomb and cuteness, I must say.” Mipha scrolls on her slate to find a photo, then turns the screen to show Zelda - Sidon’s round child face fills the screen with a dazzling grin, pure sunshine. 

Zelda can’t help but crack a grin herself, mood lifting with Sidon’s preciousness. “Yes, he is doing magnificently. I’m certain he will be even more magnificent in the future.” 

Mipha nods, radiating a pleased aura. “Do you know who your knight will be?”

Zelda’s mood drops nearly instantaneously, “Only the most insufferable Hylian known to the Goddesses.”

“Oh? Who?”

Unfortunately, Zelda catches sight of blonde hair in a wolf tail and pointy ears and a very familiar face behind Mipha. Her annoyance plummets to sheer rage, breaking her decades of engrained princess lessons to shriek, “Link!” If Zelda wasn’t hanging onto the last scrap of her dignity, she’d confess to going so far as to _point._ How’d he even get in? Zora may all be expected to be capable warriors, but Zora royalty still had guards for protection. 

“Link?” Mipha sounds confused, as if trying to determine where the conversation had shifted to include yelling.

Link merely signs back, grinning, “Link!”, as if to say, _that’s me!._ She wants to smack him with a wet fish to get that dumb delight off his face.

Mipha turns, then exclaims _with joy,_ in the worst betrayal Zelda has ever experienced in her short two decades of life, “Oh! Link! I didn’t know you’d be visiting!” And then, her best friend salts the wound and _hugs_ the blonde menace. Like they’re _friends_. Disgusting, Zelda will immediately petition to have this banned forthwith. 

She’s still trying to recompose herself - is there a way to stop one’s eye from twitching with irritation? Asking for a friend - when Mipha guides Link to a seat at the table, squeezing his hand in a subtle show of affection. It takes all of her self discipline to stop from pitching the teapot into Link’s face and instead grit out in some facsimile of ‘pleasant princess’, “I didn’t know you knew each other, Mipha.”

Mipha giggles - _giggles_ , and it’s a thing of beauty, why must Mipha be so perfect? Can’t she have one flaw?- as Link nibbles - _nibbles!_ Like he knows manners! - a macaron. “Oh, Link fostered in Zora’s Domain for years. We practically grew up together.”

Oh great. “How ... progressive of King Dorephan.”

Zora and Hylians didn’t tend to get along - the Hero of Legend tended to unwittingly seduce Zora Princesses and leave them heartbroken and/or dead, and after a few centuries of the same story... well. The Zora Elders, as old as they were, didn’t help matters, and were more conservative than even the Council of Elders that advised King Rhoam. For Link to have fostered in Zora’s Domain.... 

Link shakes his head, adamant and fingers flying almost faster than Zelda can read, “No! Queen Rutela left a - .”

The last word isn’t one Zelda knows, but she can take a guess. “A ... prophecy?” She finger spells the word, and gets confirmation from Mipha and Link, both who repeat the original hand sign. “Was Queen Rutela known for prophecy?” 

The answer is, quite obviously _no_ , because while Queen Rutela, the Sage Queen, haunted the Water Palace and the Zora People and handed out cryptic proclamations and directives that ranged from “get new shoes” to “Death. Doom. Destruction,” with no further explanation - none of which counted as prophecy for want of clarity and/or the person in question actually having any foresight and instead just dispensing statements that sound foreboding. (Zelda herself met the Queen and got told she looked just like all the other Zelda’s, and really should invest in a haircut; she’d wound up with Purah’s gum ground into her long locks less than a week later, but statement of opinion did not an oracle make.)

But Zelda, as a Hylian, isn’t supposed to know any of that, and it’s rather rude to acknowledge another family’s ghosts unless the ghost in question has appeared in front of everyone. So she keeps up the charade, and lets Mipha shake her head no, her headdress chiming faintly. “Only just the one, when the spirit of the Sage of Water overtook her before she was executed by Zant.” 

Their little corner falls silent, punctuated by birds chirping and the gentle susurrus of the many pools and fountains that make up Mipha’s rooms. Zelda sips delicately at the tea, waiting - Darjeeling, first flush, delicate yet rich without a thick aftertaste. Just like Mipha - the best of the best. Perhaps a little longer for answers, Mipha’s just sent for more tea and even the most loyal servants slip up sometimes.

More birdsong, harmonized with the gentle jingle of the windchimes. Should she have tea cake while she waits? There’s apple tarts and hazelnut eclairs and macarons, none of which she prefers to have with tea, but the egg and watercress sandwiches are on the opposite side of the tea tray. Does she possibly interrupt Mipha to ask for one? But that will leave Mipha room to _not_ elaborate on a (supposed) prophecy that will, very soon, concern Zelda by proxy (if it is not already about Zelda). 

She sips her tea instead, and studies the traditional Zora designs on the side of the tea set instead - delicate work, combining Gerudo metal inlay work with Zora stoneware, with a high chance of explosion during firing. Maybe a few more minutes will bring the conversation along.

The servant returns with fresh tea and more snacks, and pours for everyone and serves the snacks, then leaves again. But Mipha doesn’t elaborate, instead choosing to sit in calm silence, even after the clock chimes half past. She sneaks a peek at the third party intruder; Link is double fisting a mug of tea and a macaron, so there’s no help in that quarter. Finally, though, good manners win out. “...You were about to say who your knight is?”

The change of subject is graceful, somehow, because of course Mipha is grace and dignity and all those other princess qualities personified, but an escape from the awkward silence filling the space before is something even Zelda, for all her faults, can latch onto with the fervor of a dying man. 

Dying woman. Semantics.

“But - didn’t I say?” Zelda sips her tea, because she’s learned _something_ from her godmother; even though it wasn’t any true weapons proficiency or physical strength, the lesson that timing is everything has ingrained itself in her. She turns her face to stare at Link, who has moved on from decimating the macarons to decimating the scones, all without putting down his tea. Classy. “The person who won the right to be my Royal Knight is Link of Hateno.” She follows her words up with a nod in Link’s direction, to ensure the message is clear, because Link is unfortunately as popular a name as Zelda is, and there could be another Link of Hateno that neither of them know of. 

From the corner of her eye, Zelda can see the way Mipha’s face falls before her usual gentle smile returns, though with a melancholy tinge, and Zelda feels bad for a moment. Anyone with eyes knows Mipha’s fallen prey to the curse of Zora princesses, and fallen for a Hylian. And if Link is the primary Hylian Mipha has been exposed to - well, Zelda is top of her class in Advanced Calculus, she can do the math. 

She wants to reach out and hold Mipha’s hand, reassure Mipha that when the time comes, Zelda will dismiss Link from service to be Mipha’s Prince Consort. But such a thing has never been done even after tens of thousands of years of rule by the Hyrule lineage, and even the most progressive politicians wouldn’t be able to champion such an effort. 

“How,” Zelda almost misses the words Mipha says with how softly they’re spoken, almost even mistaken for a whisper of wind. 

And because Mipha, for all that Mipha’s perfect and everything Zelda wishes she was, is her best friend bar none, Zelda tells her honestly. “Grades. He achieved it through grades, of all things. And Goddesses know that no one can be seen beating the Bluestocking Princess at studies, so....” Zelda takes Mipha’s claw tipped hand and squeezes it tightly with her own, knowing the gesture will convey her sincerity - it’s a sign of unconditional trust, afterall, to put someone’s claws against your veins and open yourself to them harming you. 

It startles a laugh out of Mipha, and if it sounds watery, well, there’s a lot of water around, sounds get muddled with so much interference. But she doesn’t pull away, and Zelda counts it as a win, that she hasn’t lost her friend over this stupid PR stunt orchestrated by her father. “Certain to go down in history as the most unconventional path, wouldn’t you say?”

Zelda is about to agree, when the clink of porcelain against porcelain startles them out of their reverie. Link waits until they’re both looking at him to sign, “But that is what I was trying to do?”

She blinks dumbfounded, not processing the words. “Trying to do what?”

“Become your knight. I thought I’d have to fight lynels and hinox and stuff? Is it supposed to be easy?”

Oh, the eye twitch is back. “Easy?” 

“Yeah, easy! I thought I’d have to pull out the Master Sword or summon the Triforce? Defeat Ganon. Something like that.”

“Because all of those are presently options for you to achieve.” 

Link looks confused, “I’m Link?” As if that explains anything.

“Because beating me in grades is easier than any of that.” 

“Isn’t it?”

Breathe Zelda, even King Rhoam cannot get you off the hook for murder. Even if Mipha is trying to cover her laughter, badly, you cannot lose your temper. She pulls out her phone and blindly toggles to Slatr - a skill borne of too many state dinners, and on her stealth account scribbles, “Tea, an ominous portent of death,” and hits send. Then she stands, and sketches a curtsy to signify her intention to leave, “Mipha, thank you so much for the tea and the sympathy. I appreciate it more than words can begin to encompass.” 

She’s halfway down the hall when her slate buzzes. Her heart jumps with hope - it may be a text from Mipha; she unlocks the phone automatically. It’s a reply to her scribble, on her curious_zelda account, a request for cat photos. It takes all she has to not scream and pitch her slate out the window and into the canyon bordering the Citadel dorms.

* * *

The lull between terms isn’t a break for Zelda, though she desperately wishes it was. The time she’s supposed to be spending curled up in her room at Hyrule Castle, reading until the wee hours of the morning and sleeping in until the afternoon, are suddenly preemptively booked from sunrise until sunset. There are parties to plan and interviews scheduled and most disgustingly, _dress fittings._ Because, according to the Master of Ceremonies, naming a Royal Knight is a Major Life Milestone (Zelda can hear the capitals in the man’s giddy titter over the slate call - if he doesn’t die of stress or ecstasy she’ll be heartily surprised) and has many _many_ rituals and ceremonies (plus or minus a tournament, which will very very much be minus if Zelda has her way, though she probably won’t) that need to take place _before_ the formal knighting ceremony. 

No one can blame her for fleeing to Tabantha the day before the official end of term, though it’s not officially “fleeing” and more ... spun as “practicing for the annual Tabantha archery competition showcase” in her note. Because, Goddesses Forfend, it’s beneath royal dignity to _actually_ compete even though archery is Zelda’s only real royal talent, so Zelda is the standing invitee for the showcase on the final day of the competition. 

It’s bitterly cold still, even though it’s late spring, with arctic winds still sweeping in from Hebra and bringing the last bit of snow to the region. Though Zelda has taken precautions against frostbite with the ruby circlet she’s plaited into her hair, it’s almost nothing in the face of the biting cold. Gerudo talisman work is second to none, but it can only do so much against the chill of the wind that still reaches her skin through her light “royal approved” travel clothes, making her wish for her snowquill clothes and their cozy warmth. Zelda urges her horse on, the fire of her futile anger driving her forward towards the Rito Stable.

If she focuses very very hard, she can pretend that she does not in fact hear the second set of hooves hitting the ground moments after her own steed’s, slowly driving her resentment deeper, darker. She’d be warmer if someone hadn’t tackled her away from her nice, heated, car and spiriting her off to the stables, insistent that “horses are harder to track”, but they’re so far from Akkala Citadel and the university there’s no point in turning back now. Not that she’d expect to get very far before Link caught up and whistled her horse back on track. Stupid secret Royal horse commands.

The dense forestry that surrounds the stable comes into view, promising warmth and food and soft beds - which have nothing on the comfort of Cecili’s Swallow’s Roost Rito-down beds, but something soft after two days of hard riding and camping, anything is better than the ground. Oh, and maybe a bath? Will this be the visit that she finally gets to soak in the famed Rito saunas? A heavy gust of wind breaks her from her reverie, blowing past her with more force than expected, forcing her forward in her saddle until she’s almost bent double- and, Zelda realizes, coming from the wrong direction. 

Her bow is in hand before she can think, and shortly thereafter followed by the sound of an arrow being knocked and loosed. But - Zelda hadn’t fired. She stares down the sight of her white and gold arrow still fitted to her bow, almost in disbelief until the pieces fit together. “Link!” The yell is undignified, but necessary - she just barely catches sight of the next arrow being loosed, and fires more on instinct than intent. 

Her bolt still knocks his off course, both falling harmlessly to the ground. But Zelda can trace the trajectory of Link’s bolt, and knows it would have fatally hit. “What are you doing! You could have killed him!” 

The wind rushes again, at first directionless, then growing stronger and tighter - whirling up in a circle, punctuated by powerful wingbeats. The wind peters out, and on a rock just ahead, perched delicately in a way that masks his strength and makes him a smaller target, is Revali. “No, no, my dearest Princess, let him.” Revali flicks his fingers, pride and arrogance made flesh, “Impressive, isn’t it?” 

Link hasn’t dropped his sight though, so Zelda gently veers her horse so she’s between Link and Revali. “Oh, Revali, - “

“Your Highness, you know it’s rude to interrupt.” Revali lifts off from his perch, flying into the sun where Zelda can’t track him, only to swoop around and land behind Link. “How do you find my mastery of the skies, little knight? Do you still have your confidence to be the Princess’s knight after seeing me, seeing what I can do?” Slim fingers twirl a brown shafted arrow across them, rhythm steady as the arrow walks between and around hypnotically - when had Revali stolen Link’s arrow? “So tell me, why should I be happy that some no name Hylian is the Princess’s Sword, when they can’t even stop me?”

She sees the subtle tightening of Link’s arm muscles - a tell for most royal trained Hylians that they’re about to shoot - out of the corner of her eye. Zelda wheels her horse again, on instinct more than conscious thought, snapping, “Revali! That is enough!” 

She takes a moment to compose herself. “Thank you kindly, Revali, for your gracious welcome to Rito Village, and for going so far as to meet us on the road. Truly, the hospitality of the Rito cannot be overstated. As you can imagine, We are overjoyed to be here, but a bit roadsore and weary, if you wouldn’t mind?” 

Revali, for all his purposefully antagonistic ways, can take a hint, but he still shoots her a piercing look. She knew she should have called and explained before they arrived, before the news spread and mutated and morphed - that she wouldn’t be able to honor their unspoken agreement, name him her knight. The awkwardness ferments, sour and pungent, as Revali takes off and Zelda is left alone with Link. 

His face isn’t the world’s most expressive - a steel trap of emotion that one - but Zelda waits. This isn’t the first time she’s had to wait on a man to express himself, it probably won’t be the last. It doesn’t take long - she’s just finished passing over the rupees to pay to stable their horses, when Link catches her attention. “You shouldn’t let him speak to you like that.” 

Zelda stares at him, uncomprehending.

“You’re the Princess Royal of all of Hyrule,” he continues. “Even if he’s important to you, he shouldn’t make a scene. You shouldn’t have to intervene for him either.”

She can feel the rage building. “You mean, I shouldn’t have to intervene to prevent a Royal Knight - especially one to be sworn to my service - from causing a political incident after giving in to provocation? When the other party involved is the heir presumptive of the Chief of the Rito.” She pauses, just past the guards at the entrance to Rito Village. “You’re right Link. I shouldn’t have had to intervene, but perhaps instead of putting all the blame on Revali, take responsibility for your actions as well.”

It doesn’t feel good, to speak like her father, of public image and the power of perception, and Zelda can see the shadow of understanding pass behind Link’s unflinching eyes. She nods once, awkwardly but with finality, then turns to finish the climb up and to (hopefully) fall into a blessedly soft bed.

* * *

The Flight Range is glorious - it’s been upgraded since the last time Zelda saw it, with more difficult updrafts and more unpredictable gusts of winds blasting through the course, targets placed with utmost challenge in mind. Her arms hurt from the power she’s had to put behind her shots, the repeated strain of pulling and losing her bow. “Oh, Revali! Just when I thought the Flight Range couldn’t be made more amazing, you go and prove me wrong!” 

He sketches a bow, irreverent and smug, a parody of the way a knight bows to their sworn liege. “Anything for my dearest Princess, and number one rival.” 

His last words would seem sardonic - how can Zelda, Princess Royal of Hyrule and all her peoples, be anyone’s rival in anything? She’s above all competition - because she’s a _princess,_ with generations of resources and standing behind her, a double edged sword in actually achieving anything without judgement - and thus no one’s rival for anything. Not technically anyways. But, for Revali, who demands the best of himself and his peers, who will not abide until he has summited the peak of excellence and beaten _everyone -_ he means it literally. Because Revali needs to be the best just as much as Zelda does, and that means recognizing talent even when that talent cannot take the field of competition, and for that alone Zelda would have Revali as her knight, just to have someone who sees _her_ and not the Princess of Hyrule. 

The thought sobers her fierce glee. “Revali - I. I wanted to say I’m sorry. I always thought I’d name you my knight, but. Matters were taken out of my hands.” She studies her hands, almost red with windchill and warm with strain. “It’s not fair, and the minute I find a way to rectify -.”

Revali cuts her off, used to her ways. “That your father thinks that little knight ought to be worthy just because he beat you in grades once - it’s just asinine.” He starts checking over his bow - a custom job, but then again Revali has an in with the bowyer - inspecting it for damages. “Why you let him get away with dictating your life - .” He cuts himself off, suddenly cognizant of what he’s saying.

Zelda puts her bow away - not her usual light bow, but a Great Eagle Bow, a bow reserved for the best of the best Rito warriors, and something that even Zelda’s status as a Princess could not get her; it is simply a recognition of her skill. “You don’t have to censor yourself around me, Revali. Aren’t we old friends?”

Revali caws a laugh, sharp and shrieky like the falcon he resembles. “Princess, life’s too short to tell you what you already know. You must have your reasons for staying caged, so there’s no use in arguing.” He shrugs, nonchalant but undoubtable, unflinching - another person in Zelda’s life she envies, for his certainty of who he is and what he is - “Besides, we all know he’s only exerting control where he can because he’s only a regent until you come of age. He only married into the Hyrule lineage afterall.”

She has to choke back a laugh, because while it’s true he shouldn’t say it. Zelda puts on her best prim and proper haughty voice, like her old governess, “It’s treason to badmouth the sitting ruler of Hyrule.” Nevermind that that’s the first law that will be abolished when Zelda becomes Queen. It’s only a scant decade away, but she’s already got big ideas and bigger plans. “But on to other matters - now that we have successfully gauged where our skills stand, what shall we do for this year’s showcase?”

It’s the question they’ve both been dancing around - the one neither of them truly wants to broach. The showcase has always been a spectacle, growing ever more dazzling with every passing year, but sooner or later they’re going to reach the limits of physical ability and imagination, and every year they have to face that this year might be that year. The year they don’t top the previous year, where they don’t go higher and bigger and grander. But what haven’t they done?

Zelda mounts up her horse - the walk back to Rito Village on foot is too long, even with the new bridge leading up to the village from the western shore of Lake Totori, and the ground too full of slate and shale to be stable for road construction to drive vehicles, so horses are the fastest way for everyone not Rito to get around. “Too bad we did blindfolded mounted archery two years ago, Cuho Mountain has lovely woods to run an obstacle course through.”

Revali sighs, right as they draw up to the large copse of trees that mark the western side of Lake Totori, “Too bad you can’t fly, Princess - “

A faint “hyaaaaaaaaaaaa” is heard, as if someone was yelling in the distance. Revali nocks an arrow alert, head darting side to side and angling around in a way that reminds Zelda of her father’s hunting falcon, taking in all the details. Then as one, they both pinpoint where the sound is coming from - above. Just in time to see Link throw himself off the precipice that hangs above Lake Totori, where Vah Medoh roosts.

Time slows even as her heart kicks into high gear. “Link!” The word rips itself from Zelda’s mouth, unbidden, terror tight in her throat. Revali crouches, wind whipping up as he prepares himself to take off and intercept the falling body. 

Right before Revali could take off though, _something_ unfurls above Link’s head and his uncontrolled plummet turns into a gentle glide that takes the Hylian to the far shore and out of sight. Zelda’s breath catches again but for entirely different reasons. She grips the reins to her horse tight,anticipation warring with the adrenaline thrumming in her veins, “Revali. I think I know what we’re going to do for this year’s showcase.”

* * *

If the next afternoon finds Zelda sore, tired, bedraggled, yet exhilarated from testing the paraglider Harth had built, then no one can blame her. There’s a certain thrill to throwing oneself off a cliff and knowing that you’ll float safely to the bottom. She’ll have to expressly thank Link for the idea. 

There’s also a certain learning curve to closing the paraglider and shooting - gauging the distance to the ground and present acceleration, the wind, whether Revali has an arrow flying and where that arrow might be flying - but she thinks she’s getting the hang of it. A few more runs with plain arrows and then Zelda thinks she’ll be ready for a trial run with the trick arrows - this year is currently slated to have bomb arrows, ice arrows, and shock arrows, unless Robbie figures out firework arrows in time - she’ll have to put in the order soon, just to ensure there’s enough for practice and the showcase too. 

She’s just exited Swallow’s Roost after reassuring Cecili and Verla that the sauna was just as wonderful and relaxing as promised when she’s stopped by Teba. The warrior is usually disciplined and serious, but his eyes seem especially flinty today. “Princess.” 

“Hello Teba! How are you? Are Saki and Tulin well?” Nothing, not even gruff Rito warriors, can ruin her good mood.

“About your knight ....” 

Belay that, her mood is ruined. “What’s Link gotten up to now...”

Last night at dinner there had been a suitably vague warning by Kaneli, the Chieftain, about sacred sites and places that are off limits to visitors, aimed at Link and his climbing misadventures. He’d apparently climbed all over Rito Village and the surrounding rock spires in Lake Totori, insistent there was treasure hidden all over. Zelda had privately thanked her few lucky stars the knight hadn’t broken any pots, then told Kaneli that Link would not be climbing all over the village any longer. She should have said that he wouldn’t be causing any more problems and then leashed him to her side. 

Teba shifts, uncomfortable. “It’s best you see yourself.” And promptly refuses to speak any more of it even as he ushers through the maze of bridges and down to where her horse is waiting.

Which is just like Teba - he’s an action person rather than a words person, after all - and it means that Zelda stews in silence as they trot quickly towards the Flight Range.

And the explosions originating from there. If this is what Zelda suspects it is, Zelda might be the first Princess Royal to go to prison for murder of their almost-knight. 

The situation, as Zelda finds it when she stands at the Flight Range’s landing stage, is somehow worse than she expected. Revali swoops by, eyes fierce and focused, even as bomb arrows trail behind him by mere seconds, exploding harmlessly against the runic barrier protecting the hut. 

It takes Revali returning fire - hitting a target and then nearly immolating Link and his paraglider with the subsequent shot, only for Link to tilt and use the updraft created to shoot across the chasm and close the gap between them. Both of their bodies, as well as the Flight Range itself, are heartily coated with soot and grime, solidly demolished. Idly, part of her notices that Link is _almost_ as good as Revali and herself, before the thought is quickly quashed by more explosions rocking the range.

Zelda waits - hoping that one of them will notice that she’s standing right here, watching them both make utter mincemeat of one another. Once several minutes have passed - and several more casualties on the part of the Flight Range, the most extreme being the rocks destroyed around the landing pads’ supports that shake the whole structure - does she finally intervene, “ENOUGH!” It only takes a touch of magic to bind them both mid flight and bring their trapped bodies to her feet. “Just what do you both think you’re doing?” 

The pair trade dirty looks back and forth, but neither speak. It takes a moment for Zelda to realize - Revali won’t speak until Link can also, and with Link’s arms bound to his body, he _can’t_. She dispels the spell with a wave of her hand. “Did you know your bird bastard’s been sneaking around behind your back?”

It takes a moment for Zelda to place that the “bird bastard” is Revali. “Revali?”

Revali huffs, irate, “Don’t look at me, Princess. Your twink came up to me and challenged me to a duel for your honor. His words, not mine.”

There’s an entire laundry list of persons against whom Zelda’s honor would need defending, but she can’t think of a reason Revali would make the list. “Why would you need to challenge Revali to a duel, Link? He’s one of my oldest friends.”

Link’s eyes go hard -she’s distracted by the flint steel that engulfs them, the genuine _rage_ in them, so much so she almost can’t track the furious signs Link uses, “ I’m a twun - never mind. Your boyfriend was with another man, preening and sharing a nest. Apparently they’ve been sneaking around behind your back, and everyone knows about it. You deserve better, and I wanted Revali to tell you instead of cheating.”

Her brain spins with the information overload, though she registers that Revali has pinched the bridge of his beak in exasperation. “Revali isn’t my boyfriend,” she says.

“Isn’t he?” Link stares her down, unrelenting. 

“NO!” The word is in shrieky harmony - Revali’s voice joining in it’s sharp glory, indignant and embarrassed. There has got to be a delicate way to go about this.... “Link? Was the person Revali was ... _with_ , tall, grey feathered, with blue markings on his face and feathers?”

“Yes?” 

Maybe if she pretends hard enough she can ignore the way Teba’s shoulders are shaking with barely contained laughter. She can’t make eye contact with _anyone_ right this moment, and chooses to bury her face in her hands. “Oh my Goddess, Hylia preserve me. Link, that was Revali’s boyfriend.” 

She envies Revali for his feathers - no one can tell if _he’s_ turning colors under his feathers, though every part of his body language screams embarrassed and wanting to die. Zelda can already feel the flush in her _ears_ for the love of the Goddesses. She breathes deeply and recomposes herself. “Gentlemen, I petition we all promptly forget this ever happened and then never speak of it again? Raise your hand if you are in agreement?”

Three hands join hers in the air, though Teba’s tremble violently and he’s taken to coughing to cover his snickers. She’s about to finalize the motion when a deep voice rumbles. “Forget _what_ ever happened?”

* * *

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> To the BHA, for surviving a hell year with me, living with me, caring about me even at my worst and supporting me at my lowest. I love you all, here's to another year or growth and progress and only good things. 
> 
> (Part 2 will be up as soon as I finish it, I swear).


End file.
